3 Weeks

It was three weeks ago today that I sent the text that would end up being one of the most regrettable decisions I've ever made. A learning experience at it's finest. My true hope is that I have truly learned the appropriate lesson here AND that I am given the chance to demonstrate.

When I say I am heartbroken, I mean, I am heartbroken. I am sad at what I've lost. But, for once, I'm truly, truly sad that my actions caused someone to feel the ways that he felt. It wasn't just the text, it was a full two weeks of selfishness before the text. The text I sent, ending things, because I thought I was the one being wronged.

I could not have been more short-sighted, selfish, unaware, or just plain wrong.

I keep going back over and over again in my head, wondering if I'm being too hard on myself or giving him too much credit, and I can't find it. It's just not there.

Never before have I felt the ending of a relationship has been majority my fault. Even if I wasn't the one who ended it, and some action of mine was the catalyst for the ending, I still felt the responsibility of the demise of the relationship fell primarily on the other party's shoulders. Even if I was sad. Even if, I think back now, it COULD have been more my fault.

But I don't care about that. I don't care if every relationship I've ever had failed primarily because of me. They ended, and they should have ended. I'm glad that ended.

This one, though... This one is different. This man is different. This was a true opportunity at happiness, and I fucking blew it.

After the first fight I picked, he apologized and said he'd be more thoughtful. After the second one, he called the next morning, told me he wasn't mad, and told me I was being too hard on myself because I was just expressing how I felt.

And I kept picking at him. Picking, picking, picking. And for what? To get my way. My way and no other way. To try to control him, to make him do what I wanted and to make him fulfill my needs, without regard to his wants, his needs.

I did have some idea that I was wrong at the time - I even said so. But it was how I felt, and somehow, I was convinced that HE was responsible for my bad feelings. He wasn't. I was. And I wanted him to fix MY problem.

So, here I sit, three weeks, very little conversation, and only one phone call later. Today, I don't feel much hope. Today, the prayer for acceptance is at the top. All I can do is hope.